It looked like a tiny purple starburst yet it grabbed me by my collar and pulled me close with its tendril-finger-voices-singing “Come close and really look at me.”
Isn’t this what we all want? Don’t we want other people, other beings to come close and see us for who and what we are as well as to recognize when things are not going as would be best for us?
I stared into the face of the thistle and saw the bugs climbing all over its purpleness. I literally gasped at the sight of them, countless numbers of them. Marching, circling, up and down, over and up while the thistle stood in the mottled sunlight, doing what it does best: being a thistle.
What could I do?
I couldn’t pick it, that would kill it.
I couldn’t knock the ants off it, that would harm them.
I couldn’t shout for thistle first aid because there were none that could be given without causing a need for insect first aid.
I almost allowed myself to feel powerless until the camera in my hand nudged my index finger.
“Document her.” I turned my camera on and snapped a shot. Blurry.
“Get up closer and document her, as she is, right now.”
I did.
And here she is: covered in ants, a bit disheveled yet still powerful and potent enough to draw me to her so that I could live that moment with more depth and beauty.
Here you are, reading of her life and wondering, “How does this relate back to me?”
Consider it: in what ways do you long to be seen doing what you do best, even if you happen to find yourself covered with what some might label “ugliness” or “damage” or “not at her or his best”?
In what ways are you willing to give up best appearances in order to serve the greatest good?
Really look at this insect covered thistle: she has left a legacy because I took the time to heed the call, to take action, to document and share and somehow, through a fluke of interconnection you wound up here to read and learn and grow and discover.
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© 2011
Julie Jordan Scott
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